


Driving the Patrons Away

by Atsvie



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Abundance of Oreos, Actual Public Menace Wade Wilson, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/pseuds/Atsvie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade go grocery shopping. Peter underestimates how bad it could possibly go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving the Patrons Away

“This is stupid.”

Peter pauses mid-reach for the shopping cart, tilting his head to give Wade a long, unamused look. “You’re the one who begged to come.”

“But it’s still _stupid_ _,”_ Wade whines.

The automatic sliding doors part for them as Peter rolls the basket cart through, Wade trailing behind him groaning about the evils of grocery stores. The store is too bright, like all the overhead bulbs are jacked up to some obscene intensity that gives off a sterile light. There’s the background noise of chatter and beeps of the registers, along with the clink of the wheels of the shopping cart against the tiles.   
  
In other words, it’s the epitome of organized evil if Wade has anything to say about it.   
  
“Okay, I need milks, eggs, juice, and chips. This shouldn’t be that bad,” Peter reads off of his list with a nod to himself.   
  
Famous last words, Parker.   
  
Originally, Wade had planned on a nice day full of sex and quality time back at Peter’s apartment. And a lot of sex. Maybe a dinner date to Taco Bell if he was feeling particularly romantic. Upon letting himself in through the window (doors are too easy, he had told himself), he was met with the scent of cleaning chemicals and the telltale whirl of the washing machine.   
  
“Nope, I’m cleaning today. Out, Wilson!” Peter had yelled from down the hall and Wade cursed softly. Foiled again by tingling Spidey-senses. But of course, no amount of tingles could make Wade budge from the neatly made bed—he could wait until chores were over. Except chores weren’t over because Peter had to go to the store.   
  
Naturally, Wade followed because it’s much easier to annoy him that way.   
  
Wade shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dragging his feet behind the younger as he happily scans the shelves for the brand of chips that he wants. Today is a casual day, just Wade and Peter without the mess of their suits and masks—despite that Wade still draws up the hood of his jacket to hide his face.   
  
Peter is wearing those dark jeans that cling to his legs like a second layer of skin with a light grey v-neck that has Wade staring at the muscle of his biceps. Wade tells him he looks like a hipster twink and the aforementioned hipster twink tells him he looks like a misguided thug. All while never looking up from the shelf of chips.

He probably does look like a thug, but that just makes it even more fun when he jumps onto the cart so that one foot is propped onto the metal rack underneath while the other propels the cart forward with an ungodly amount of force down the aisle. Peter yells behind him but Wade just cackles and steers the cart past a woman and her child, only barely missing them.   
  
Unfortunately, the display of cereal boxes at the end of the aisle is victim to Wade’s warpath with the shopping cart. There’s a large crash as he collides with the display, cereal boxes flying up and raining back down on top of Wade’s head.   
  
Wade blinks from his place on the ground, looking over to see a girl that had to be younger than eight with pretty blonde pigtails and a shocked expression staring at him in either fear or awe. He jabs a finger at her, pushing himself off the ground. “You saw nothing!”  
  
Somehow, Peter hadn’t seen the catastrophe with the shopping cart and the cereal display but he _knows_ when Wade walks up to him with an innocent grin and one less shopping cart. Which is alright because Peter is used to putting up with him by now and already went and got another cart that he’s gripping protectively.   
  
“I don’t want to know,” Peter says before Wade can say anything, “Really. All I need is milk and eggs now, let’s just get this over with.”  
  
He looks utterly exasperated with him, his tone dry and face tight. So Wade walks at his side and wraps an arm around his waist as Peter pushes the cart. He doesn’t tell him about the display.   
  
Peter seems to relax at the gesture and even stops in the aisle with sweets. “I need sugar,” he explains, leaning up to press a kiss on Wade’s cheek before pushing him away so he can retrieve the cookies from off the shelf.   
  
Behind him, Wade hums to himself and casually loads an armful of oreo packages into the cart. By the time that Peter turns around, about to deposit his pack of cookies into the cart, he looks at Wade and throws his arms up. “Really, Wade? This is why we can’t have nice things!”  
  
“But oreos!” Wade argues, because that in itself should be a sufficient enough argument.  
  
“Okay we can get like, one pack of oreos. We don’t need seventeen. Jesus, I don’t even want to know how many calories that is,” Peter huffs, putting the extra oreos back on the shelf.   
  
Wade raises a brow, sneaking an extra pack back into the cart before they move further down the aisle. “What, are you watching your weight now? Gotta keep your girlish figure?”  
  
“Absolutely,” Peter rolls his eyes, “Might not fit into that new mini skirt.” There’s a long pause where the grin on Wade’s face slowly builds before Peter snaps his head towards him. _“_ _Don’t.”_  
  
He’d convert him into the world of crossdressing another day, it seems.   
  
After some light bickering as they walked, Wade having tangled their fingers together because he loves any chance to be obnoxiously affectionate in public just for the looks sent their way, they’d managed to collect both the milk and eggs—without any broken eggs, to Peter’s delight.   
  
“We should make ice cream sometime,” Peter says airily as they pass the freezers across from the milk and eggs.  
  
“That would totally ruin your diet,” Wade points out helpfully.   
  
Peter laughs, nudging him in the side as they push the cart around the corner of the store. “Gelato isn’t vegan?”  
  
“Milk ‘n eggs, bitch,” Wade replies on cue.   
  
They walk towards the checkout lanes, taking turns mocking each other through bad pop culture references. It then occurs to Wade that no shopping trip is a productive one until the most important item has been bought.   
  
“Wait!” Wade flails his arms out, stopping the cart, “We forgot something!”  
  
“No we didn’t,” Peter says slowly but glances down at his list to double check. They got everything on it.   
  
_“Pancakes, Spidey.”_  
  
“We have enough pancake mix already.”  
  
“But we’re going to run out. What if someone breaks in and steals what’s left?” Wade insists, already walking off towards the baking aisle and for some reason Peter follows.   
  
“Why would they be stealing my pancake mix?” Peter mutters to himself. He’s genuinely disconcerted by the idea until Wade starts loading several boxes of pancake mix into the cart. And proceeds to threaten gratuitous violence should anyone try and stop him from bringing it all home.   
  
Which is how Peter begrudgingly ends up hauling twelve boxes of pancake mix into the back of his car. The cashier had looked at them both skeptically, but Wade had insisted that he hurry the fuck up or he would have pancakes shoved up into unpleasant places. Peter had hid his face in his hands the entire time.   
  
“Well that was fun!” Wade claps, lifting his feet onto the dashboard of the car from his place in the passenger’s seat.   
  
“That’s not what I would call fun, but sure whatever floats your little demented boat.”  
  
“Aww, don’t be that way, baby. I’ll make you pancakes when we get home.”  
  
Peter shakes his head, starting the car with a low rumble of the engine. “I’m sure you will, _pumpkin.”_  
  
 _“_ Tell me you love my pancakes, _honeybunch.”_  
  
Peter smiles sweetly at him and blasts One Direction on the way home, reminding Wade that the driver gets to pick the music, even as the merc begins to slam his head against the passenger window.   
  
For their first shopping trip, it really could have gone worse, Peter thinks. Even if it means that he ends up eating an ungodly amount of pancakes and oreos the next week and a half.


End file.
